


Baby Blues

by hayjolras



Category: Les Misérables (2012), Les Misérables - All Media Types, Les Misérables - Victor Hugo
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-23
Updated: 2013-05-23
Packaged: 2017-12-12 17:36:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 934
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/814179
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hayjolras/pseuds/hayjolras
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The stork visits Enjolras and Grantaire.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Baby Blues

Enjolras woke up to the sound of the bathroom door shutting as Grantaire walked out of the bathroom and into the kitchen, not bothering to stop and see if Enjolras was up yet. He turned over in bed and opened his eyes. It seemed to be a beautiful morning — the sun was shinning in through the bedroom windows, there was the chirping of the birds…cars zipping by…the cries of a small child…the wind rustling the leaves on the tress —

Wait.

Enjolras got up and left his and Grantaire’s room, going to the front of the house, the cries growing louder as he took each step closer to the door. He hesitated as he touched the handle, wondering if he should turn it, or turn back around and go back to sleep and ignore the crying. He decided on the former, opening the door slowly and looking down at his feet.

To his shock, horror, and amazement, there was, in a small wicker basket, wrapped up in a pink blanket, a small, red-faced baby.

The baby was crying. Not screaming, but simply crying, its chest rising and falling with each wail.

Enjolras, who had never been within three feet of a baby in his entire life, looked down at the baby, hand still on the doorknob as he watched the baby as if it were some foreign object he’d never been exposed to prior to this very moment in time.

His first instinct was to call for Grantaire, who came running at the urgency and panic in Enjolras’s voice.

“What is it?” Grantaire asked, and Enjolras moved to show him.

Grantaire looked down for a moment, then to Enjolras. “Why is there a baby on the front stoop?”

Enjolras rolled his eyes. “Grantaire, how on earth am  _I_  supposed to know why there’s a baby on the front stoop? You can’t exactly call 1-800-Babies and have one delivered to your house.”

Grantaire’s eyes grew wide as he leaned down to pick up the baby gingerly. “You mean my mother’s been lying to me this whole time about where babies come from?”

Enjolras rolled his eyes again. “Is there a note with it?”

“Enjolras, it’s a _baby_ , not a package from Amazon —”

”It might  _as well_  have been —”

“Take the basket inside. We’ll go to the kitchen,” Grantaire suggested, walking with the baby balanced on his hip to their kitchen.

Enjolras rolled his eyes for the third time that morning and picked up the basket, inspecting it. There was no note or anything — not at the bottom nor wrapped up in the blanket. He sighed and brought it into the kitchen, where Grantaire was bouncing the baby on his hip, trying to make her smile.

The baby looked about seven or eight months old, so she wasn’t exactly tiny, but not that big, either. She was chubby, with round cheeks and rolls underneath her pink dress. Fiery red hair fell to somewhere above her shoulders, curling slightly towards the end, and they bounced along with Grantaire, a candle flame dancing.

“The baby’s a girl, then?” Enjolras asked, looking from Grantaire to the baby.

Grantaire shrugged. “Guess we’ll figure it out later.”

“Later?” Enjolras asked with a frown. “There is going to be no  _later_. We have to take her to a hospital or wherever you go to drop off kids.”

Grantaire frowned back, looking from the baby, who was still crying softly, to Enjolras. “But she’s so cute.”

“She’s not a puppy.”

“I know that! Just — here, hold her for a second, would you?” Grantaire asked, holding the baby out for Enjolras.

Enjolras tried to refuse and back away, not exactly thrilled at the idea of holding something that could vomit, pee, and/or poop on him, but Grantaire handed her off to him, and he couldn’t exactly drop the baby.

She was still crying, tears rolling down her cheeks. Enjolras couldn’t help but think it had been a long day for the poor kid, lost and abandoned by someone.

Then Enjolras began to rock her, singing some tune he recalled his mother singing to him when he was a child, before he and his faher started arguing, before he moved out…

_“Let me call you sweetheart, I’m in love with you._

_Let me hear you whisper that you love me, too._

_Keep the love-light glowing in your eyes so blue,_

_Let me call you sweetheart, I’m in love with you.”_

_  
_This seemed somewhat inaccurate to Enjolras, since the baby’s eyes were a bright, vivid green, but he didn’t bother to change the lyrics all for an eye color. Plus, he discovered, to his surprise, that the baby was no longer crying. She was smiling, looking up at Enjolras with those green eyes, freckeled cheeks dimpled from the smile…

“I suppose, maybe,” he said softly as Grantaire walked in, grinning at the pair of them, having watched the scene from the living room, “we can keep you, after all — you are a child of the republic, and it’s my job to look after you —”

“We’re not naming her Patria, Enjolras.”

Enjolras grinned at Grantaire and held the baby so that her head was resting on his small, rounded shoulders. “I was thinking Sophie — ouch! Sofie,” Enjolras scolded, struggling to get his long, blonde hair from the baby’s strong grip. “Sohpie,” he said again, but this time, he was half laughing.

Grantaire grinned and walked over to wrap Enjolras and the baby in a tight hug. “I like Sophie,” he whispered to Enjolras, but loudly enough so that baby Sophie could hear him, too.

**Author's Note:**

> The lullaby Enjolras sings to Sophie is called, "Let Me Call You Sweetheart" -- it's been covered by several different artists, and my grandpa used to sing it to my mom when she was little, and then sang it to me. Not sure why I'm telling you this, but okay. There you go. Goodbye friends I am gone.


End file.
